Just a Girl and her Angel
by Domenic
Summary: (Set in the pre-movie dimension.) Simply a collection of snap-shots of Christine and Erik in the beginning, when he was still an invisible deity, and she a superstitious child.
1. SnapShot 1

Author's Beginning Notes: This fanfic is inspired by the revelation that little Christine is probably as cute as little Erik... I hope you enjoy the story, and please leave a review; feedback is always appreciated.

Summary: (A series of one-shots set in the pre-movie dimension.) Simply snapshots in the lives of Erik and Christine in the beginning, when he was still an invisible deity, and she a rather superstitious child...

Disclaimer: The Phantom of the Opera doesn't belong to me; if it did, Christine would've gone with Erik...

In Which Erik is Embarassed, and Christine is Confused

"You're late, Christine." It was impossible for the Phantom to bottle up his smirk, especially when the young 7-year-old girl couldn't see him, whose pale cheeks deepened in a shaded blush, a nervous smile creeping on her lips.

"I'm sorry Angel, Meg and I played a little longer after dinner," she replied softly as she rubbed her neck in a gesture of embarassment.

"It's alright," the man put in kindly from behind the mirror, a little surprised at his gentleness, although by now he should've gotten used to it; ever since meeting the small Daae about a month ago and arranging these music lessons, Erik had found himself softening, much to his annoyance, but he found himself unable--or unwilling--to stop. "Just don't play too long with her before your lessons."

Her chocolate curls bouncing up and down as she nodded her head. Christine padded toward her bed, excitedly telling the Phantom how she had been practicing just like he told her to.

"Very good child. Con--wait, what are you doing," the man questioned in alarm as he straightened up from his relaxed leaning against the mirror, hoping that what he was mistaken.

"I'm just changing into my pajamas Angel," answered the girl innocently as she slightly giggled at her teacher's tone, for she had not failed to notice the alarm within it, and of course found it so absurd that it bordered on the comical; she just hoped he would not take offense. He... Christine dared not share with her Angel that she had long presumed him to be female; the girl had always pictured the Angel of Music her father spoke so highly of as the most beautiful woman to ever grace the heavens, surpassing the Virgin Mary herself. Oddly enough, her Angel's existence did not shock young Daae as much as the discovery that 'she' was in fact a 'he.'

"Don't." Erik dearly wished for roughly the hundredth time that he could kick himself; he could not let embarassment make his grasp of authority slip, especially in the presence of his student. But here he was, quietly muttering his command, easily undermining its power so that it really was no longer an order, more like a plea, and all the while a blush was creeping on his cheeks as well, sweat actually beginning to trickle down a little. This was utterly pathetic, the man thought, for he was well aware that the act of watching a little girl undress paled considerably when compared to watching a physically mature woman undress...not that it made it right, not at all, but...damn it, he shouldn't feel this much intensity in his reaction, only mild embarassment was called for!

"Huh?" Christine paused in her task, not only instinctively obeying her teacher, but also out of confusion toward his voice; his voice was not much louder than a whisper, so the girl was uncertain on whether or not she had heard him correctly, and just the very fact that the he had never talked or even sung in this quiet volume was decidely strange. He sounded actually timid, almost...almost human, no longer a distant diety. To her muted surprise, Christine found this observation more comforting than disturbing.

"Please, allow me to leave for the moment Christine, so that you may dress in privacy...I will return in 10 minutes time," and with that, the Phantom swiftly retreated down the hall a little ways off, stopping particularly close to a candle and unconsciously beginning to rock back and forth on the heels of his feet in clinging embarassment. The man rationalized; this had been the first time Christine had ever started to change her garments in his presence, and the thought of the child thinking nothing of changing in front of her Angle had not occured to him in the slightest; now that Erik was aware, he would not make the same error twice.

"...Huh?" For the first time, young Daae realized that her teacher was rather weird...

Author's Ending Notes: I hope you enjoyed that first story, and please remember to leave a review; feedback is always appreciated.


	2. SnapShot 2

Author's Beginning Notes: Here is the second story in this collection, and thanks for the feedback; please continue to review, and I hope your enjoyment continues.

Summary: (A series of one-shots set in the pre-movie dimension.) Simply snapshots in the lives of Erik and Christine in the beginning, when he was still an invisible deity, and she a rather superstitious child...

Disclaimer: The Phantom of the Opera doesn't belong to me; if it did, Christine would've gone with Erik...

In Which Buquet Officially Earns his Place on Erik's Hit List

"Angel?" Summer, perfect for lemonade, thought the small girl as she gulped down the drink, impressed with how well Meg had made it, her legs dangling off the bed's edge and aimlessly kicking back and forth.

"Yes Christine?" Summertime, an opportune moment for lemonade, thought the Phantom as he sipped the golden liquid, thanking Madame Giry for giving it to him, his back leaning against the mirror while he sat upon the cold stone floor.

"Well," the child began, pausing for another gulp, "I saw Monsieur Buquet doing something funny today."

"There truly isn't a need to address that man as 'monsieur,' child," Erik grunted, his eyes rolling behind his mask at the thought of that despicable stage hand.

"Anyway," said young Daae rather anxiously, not wanting her Angel to get anymore testy, and to get to her point... "I saw him peeking through holes in the wall." The lemonade splattered on the ground as the Phantom spat it out in shock, his eyes wide in their sockets, his cheeks a deep red.

"He...he... he **what**!"

"Monsieur Buquet was peeking through holes in the wall," repeated Christine, her eyebrows burrowed in confusion, wondering what was wrong with her teacher. "I wanted to look through those holes too and see what he was looking at, but they were set **really** high up in the wall," she continued, and to her emphasize her point, the child lifted her hand without the lemonade as high as it could stretch, "and I couldn't begin making any sort of ladder since I had to go to ballet practice..." Erik buried his crimson face in his darkly gloved hands once he set his drink down. "Do you know what Buquet was doing, Angel?"

At least one of the Phantom's eyes peeked out from between the fingers of one hand, and he sighed, resisting the temptation of repeatedly banging his head against the wall. There was no way in **hell** he was going to tell Christine that pervert Buquet was peeking through holes in the wall to spy on women undressing.

"Uh, Angel?"

"Christine...I know, but I'm sorry to say that I cannot tell you; you're much too young for that particular answer."

"When will I be old enough," asked the girl in eager curiosity, her naivety acting as a pleasant shield. In a hundred years, Erik inwardly thought in reply, also wondering if there ever was a time when he was as naive as Christine...he rather hoped not.

"I shall let you know when you are ready," replied the Phantom in a cold voice, fully hoping and predicting that the young Daae will forget this little matter among the shuffle of more important things.

"Christie!" Erik had to choke back a laugh as his student frowned, cringing at that hated nickname, a title Meg employed simply to annoy her friend.

"DON'T CALL ME THAT MEG," boomed Christine, trying to imitate the same stern tone her teacher occasionally used as she rushed out of her room, the Phantom finally breaking out into laughter in her wake.

Author's Ending Notes: God, this idea just begged to be written. I hope you enjoyed story 2, and please remember to leave a review.


	3. SnapShot 3

Author's Beginning Notes: Thank you for all of the reviews so far, and for that plot-bunny with Christine's first crush...I'll do that one eventually, but sorry to say not for a while. (Have to develop her crush first...)Also, about someone's surprise about the first story not being about the first Erik/Christine meeting... Well, I rather planned to maybe save that particular story for the very end of this collection, although that may take awhile since I've realized that with the overall theme of this series, I could go on for a long time... Anyway, here's story 3, injected with a some angst mingled in with the 'fluffiness.' I hope you enjoy, and please remember to leave a review.

Summary: (A series of one-shots set in the pre-movie dimension.) Simply snapshots in the lives of Erik and Christine in the beginning, when he was still an invisible deity, and she a rather superstitious child...

Disclaimer: The Phantom of the Opera doesn't belong to me; if it did, Christine would've gone with Erik...

In Which Christine Asks Erik Where Babies Come From

"Child, is there something on your mind? You're usually sleeping by now..."

"Well...yes," the young Daae awkwardly replied as she scuttled out from the shelter of blankets, her mouth stretching out in a gaping yawn.

"And?" Again, the Phantom was astonished by the measure of patience he could exercise with Christine, and theorized that perhaps it had something to do with the strange soothing effect the child had on him.

"Oh," began Christine, pausing to yawn once more, "I've just been wondering where babies come from." She ignored the loud sound of Erik falling against the wall once his legs weakened beneath him, the girl thinking it of no major importance. "Do you know, Angel?"

The man had to fight viciously to retain his calm control, and failing; crouched on the floor, his fists resting against the mirror, it took all his energy just to choke back various curse words that he dared not inflict upon his student's immature ears. It was the first time Erik realized how much Christine made him blush and sweat, and for a rare moment he felt hate toward the girl, but just as soon as that thought registered, he savagely beat himself back, falling onto that old crutch of self-loathing; she did nothing...

The Phantom stood up all rigid before leaning into the mirror, running a gloved hand through his dark hair as a pale sigh uttered from his lips; how the hell was he going to handle this? He was sorely tempted to tell his student just to ask Madame Giry about the origin of infants, but logically that did not truly work well, for in Christine's eyes he and the elder Giry held the same authority, and if the Phantom were to look more closely, he'd realize that his power was actually greater than Giry's. Why send me to Madame Giry, when you can answer Angel, Erik thought as the young Daae's query, whether she said it out loud or not. But...god, him talking about **sex**! He, who could never **ever** taste the reward of flesh for the trials and achievement of love?... Why are You always so cruel to me God, the Phantom mentally asked his age-old question with bitter detachment.

"Angel...you're still there, aren't you?"

"I--yes Christine, I am still here," answered the man wearily from behind the mirror, too tired to even bother scolding himself for losing track of time; and he **still** had no idea how to teach his student this particular lesson... Would Madame Giry even want young Daae to learn about sex from him? Was that a matter she had claim over? Taking one look at Christine's wide eyes, Erik felt himself wrapping around her finger, and the girl had absolutely no idea of the sway she had over her teacher. No, no, he whispered in his mind; just have to take the plunge, the man thought as he began.

"Child, you know how flowers grow from seeds?" Starting with a metaphor might work.

"Uh huh." Curling up more into her blankets, the little girl wondered where this was going, how flowers related.

"Well, babies grow from seeds too."

"...Really?"

"Oh yes, but it is not strictly the same process as flowers, for example there is no soil, and you cannot truly touch or look at the seed, etc."

"Okay..."

"Now, a man and a woman are needed to make babies from grow from seeds; they work together, you see..."

"They're garderners?" The Phantom was shocked to find himself chuckling, his student's innocent remark calming him down somewhat.

"Yes," he breathed out between laughs, "I suppose they are in their own way gardeners."

"But they don't need soil, and they can't pick up the seed, right," Christine asked, eager for confirmation.

"That is correct," the man put in with an edge of pride tinting his voice that he had trouble comprehending, and the young Daae glowed in pleasure.

"Now...the seed grows inside a very special place in the woman, or the mother."

"Uh huh."

"And then the man, or father, shares his own seed with the mother's seed, and through their combined efforts the seed is ready for a baby to grow from it... Understand?" Although Erik was pleased to find that he handled the sex talk better than expected, he hoped that Christine would be satisified with his explanation and drop the subject for the moment to pick up again at a later time with him or even continue with Madam Giry.

"Yes Angel," answered the girl, nodding as she yawned; she really should be getting to sleep soon, Madame Giry always knew if she stayed up too late, and typically grew angry... "So the seed is in the mother, and the baby grows from the seed, so then the baby is inside the mother," continued Christine, one more thing weighing on her mind that had to be answered soon.

"Yes."

"Then how does the baby come out of the mother?" Erik had an image pop into his head of spread apart legs and a bloody head emerging from in between them, and he shuddered quite visibly; he had never seen a child's birth, but he of course knew information on how the process went.

"Well," he began unsteadily, "normally, it takes 9 months until the baby is ready to come out--"

"9 months?"

"Yes, a baby needs 9 months to grow fully from its seed."

"Oh."

"Yes, so after 9 months, the baby is ready to come out, and..."

"And?"

"And..." Damn it, finish it, finish it, Erik yelled inwardly at himself, dearly wanting to bang his head against the stone walls to beat himself into submission.

"And--and--and--and--and--and--and--and--"

"It's okay Angel, you don't have to continue," Christine put in kindly, and the teacher found himself compelled to obey his student. "Thank you so much for telling me where babies come from... Good night Angel, have sweet dreams," the girl said before she blew a kiss in a random direction, knowing that the Angel of Music would recieve it wherever he was. And in a few minutes the young Daae had given into her exhaustion once unburdened by her ponderings, falling into a peaceful slumber. Her teacher stood shocked behind the mirror, touching his unmasked cheek where Christine's blown kiss had fallen, for those types of kisses always find their mark. Even though it was an imaginary kiss, it still somewhat filled in that ravenous gap in Erik, that gap where his mother never ever dared to kiss, that gap where human contact was forbidden. A lone tear dripped down, followed by many more, and yet he smiled.

Author's Ending Notes: I seriously hope I handled Erik's explanation of sex well. I hope you enjoyed that most recent installment, and please remember to leave a review.


	4. SnapShot 4

Author's Beginning Notes: Here is story 4, and although this is primarily movie-verse, I've decided to add in some Susay Kay elements when I mention Erik's attempted suicide at 12 years old. I hope you enjoy the story, and please remember to leave a review.

Summary: (A series of one-shots set in the pre-movie dimension.) Simply snapshots in the lives of Erik and Christine in the beginning, when he was still an invisible deity, and she a rather superstitious child...

Disclaimer: The Phantom of the Opera doesn't belong to me; if it did, Christine would've gone with Erik...

In Which Christine Draws a Picture of Erik, and Asks Him Another Question

"Christine, what are you drawing?"

"Oh, I'm just drawing you Angel."

"...What?" The young Daae blinked rapidly in surprise at the tone of her teacher's voice; it sounded like her Angel had squeaked...

"I'm drawing you Angel," replied Christine, shoving her shock down into the soles of her feet as she her small hand indicated the sheet of paper before her, while her other set the pencil Madame Giry had given her down on the desk. "See, there are your wings," the young girl began, pointing at the feathery streaks, "and that's your halo." The Phantom's eyes followed his student's finger as it pointed at a different spot, a small round hoop.

"I messed up there," Christine said sheepishly, speaking of the halo. "It should've been bigger."

"...Child, why are you drawing me, when you have not seen me," Erik questioned gently, as a gloved hand absent-mindedly stroked his mask.

"I'm just imagining what you look like," the young Daae defended herself in a testy manner, trying to imitate her Angel when he was grumpy. "It's in black and white, but your hair," and the girl pointed to the scraggly waves on the paper connected to the head, "is supposed to be blonde."

"...Blonde?"

"Blonde's not a bad color! Meg's blonde, you know!"

"I never said blonde was a bad color!"

"You were thinking it."

"I was not."

"Was too."

"Was not."

"Was too."

"Was not."

"Was too."

"Was not."

"Was too."

"Was not."

"Was too."

"Was--oh, forget it." An uncomfortable silence reigned between student and teacher, only the sound of Christine's tapping pencil ruining it.

"Um...Angel?"

"Yes, Christine," Erik replied from behind the mirror, hiding his embarassment over engaging in something so juvenile with the young Daae.

"Well, are you...I mean, were you ever anything else besides an angel, did you live as a mortal before, and then...you know...died and became the Angel of Music?" The man couldn't resist smiling at his student's intelligent question.

"Yes...I have lived before."

"Really? How did you--" but the girl cut herself off when her own hand sprang up and hastily covered her mouth, her eyes wide with fear.

"Died?" A blush tinting her pale cheeks, and lowering her hand, the Phantom's student nodded sheepishly.

"It's alright child," Erik put in gently, wanting nothing more at that moment but to soothe his young friend. "Curiosity is a natural thing... And yet, I'm sorry to admit I do not wish to share with you the details of my death." The man did not wish to give into temptation and tell Christine that he had died of his own suicide when he was 12, making that botched attempt of his in the past a reality in the young Daae's mind; he did not wish to put the idea in her mind that one of God's rules was wrong, that suicide did not deny entry into Heaven...certainly, he had little respect for God, but his feelings did not matter, only Christine's. At times Erik hated how religious the girl was, how she believed in God and Angels and miracles so much, as well as Heaven and Hell.

"Oh no, that's fine," the child anxiously replied with her hands waving nervously, making her look rather comical, and the Phantom had to bite down a laugh.

"...Angel?"

"Yes?"

"...Do you...do you like my drawing?" Christine was aware she was being foolish, knew that her Angel of Music would comment on her futile attempt to capture his divine and celestial beauty, despite his overall kindness to her in the past. From behind the mirror, the man re-examined his student's picture, noted the amateurish technique of her inexperienced hand in her unsteady lines, but the face showed overall a symmetrical grace that was alluring, and it was bare, free of any damn masks; he felt warm looking at the picture...his student had taken the time to draw what he looked like and put it down on paper...

"...Yes, Christine, I like your drawing very much."

Author's Ending Notes: I have a feeling this wasn't as humorous as the other earlier stories...oh well, the genre is general after all, not humor. I hope you enjoyed that story, and please remember to leave a review.


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